Not Precisely A World Away
by PurpleYin
Summary: A tragic story of another earth. Hartley inherits an empire that day and a bullseye on his back. However he'd felt about being a Rathaway before, this is infinitely worse. Hartmon UST and tragic romance. Warnings for character death, violence and kinda dark!Cisco.


**A/N:** Written for Hartmonfest 2019. This is so incredibly *not* a happy story, don't ask me why my brain thought 'Yes, let's have us some tragedy!' but it did. I started writing it for the role reversal prompt but I'm not sure it entirely works for that in the end. Technically I think it accidentally works for 'working together', 'unspoken' and possibly 'Cisco character fic' to some degree too but primarily I'd file it under 'other Earths'.

Thanks go to Anthela for betaing.

* * *

**Not Precisely A World Away**

* * *

The Rathaways bought everything they needed _or _wanted. There were just a few things they couldn't buy, as Hartley well knew. Money gave them comfort, but it also gave them a superiority complex. Money bought body guards and state of the art technology to protect against those with grudges they inevitably inspired. Their technology isn't up-to-date though, no one's technology could compete with the new wave of metas Harrison Wells had unleashed on Central City.

Turns out money can't buy safety either, not anymore, and trying to bribe a maniac to do _your_ bidding is a terrible, fatal, mistake. Zoom obliterates the Rathaways – first the company, then their household taken apart brick by brick, piled on top of the staff's bodies inside, and finally Hartley's parents themselves. Hartley finds out the hard way, eyes following the gawkers staring at where their skyscraper used to be, a rising dustcloud on the horizon. The lightning strike of writing torn across the buildings unfortunate enough to be neighbors to his parents establishment spells out a threat to him, to high society, to the city, one burning edged letter at a time. Cisco stands by his side, hand on his shoulder, telling him to look away, "Don't watch it, Hart." But he has to. He witnesses the end of life as he knows it. He only hears of how his parents die, strung up on the chandelier of the Mayor's office lobby. He can see the truth of the rumor when he goes to identify them at CCPD's morgue, spying the ligature marks peeking out from under the sheet spread to hide them.

Hartley inherits an empire that day _and _a bullseye on his back. However he'd felt about being a Rathaway before, this is infinitely worse.

Going into hiding seems the only sensible option for the time being. He arranges slush funds to avoid being traced and purchases an old warehouse in Starling City, converting it into a base of operation. Cisco is the one person he trusts with the information. The one person who doesn't shy away from his pain or consider his desire to take down Zoom crazy.

And it isn't because of his parents that he wants to take out Zoom, in a way they brought that on themselves. They didn't have any limits on their expectations and Zoom doesn't either, a clash destined to happen sooner or later. Hartley has lived in fear, of one kind or another, for so long and he can't stand the thought of the whole city living like that – it has to end and The Flash, despite his posturing, has failed to stop Zoom's reign. All Cisco says to this is, "I know."

Hartley has a good brain and practically unlimited funding, but he hits a block on how to use science to defeat Zoom. There is no data to work with. The one rival to Zoom they know of, The Flash, is strangely elusive and short of manipulating dark matter exposure Hartley doesn't fancy his chances at coming across another speedster to interrogate.

He doesn't bargain on becoming a metahuman himself. At first the ever increasing noise in his head as his hearing goes into overdrive is a debilitating distraction, but Cisco takes leave from S.T.A.R. Labs to come to his rescue and help figure out how to make him functional again. Cisco never fails to be there for him. Hartley's whole life has been uprooted but at least Cisco is a constant. Always a comfort to him, whether it be the eclectic links he messages throughout the day, his voice-chat in Hartley's ear on the late nights or in person whenever he can manage the trip.

That setback at least gives him an idea how to use sound against Zoom, the right frequency can't be outrun. Hartley could tear him apart piece by piece just like Zoom often loves to do to others. It feels poetic but he doesn't share that detail with Cisco, scared of what he'd think of his vengeance.

Cisco resists Hartley's attempts to lure him to work full-time at his top-secret enterprise but Cisco is there, centre stage, for the initial testing of the sonic gloves, making jokes about how cliched the whole orphaned rich kid does vigilantism scenario is. Hartley can't help but feel the jokes are masking a worry of Cisco's that appears to be growing the closer Hartley gets to making true his vision.

"It'll be fine, Cisquito. I'm a genius, and besides, we have science on our side."

* * *

Cisco watches the shaky handwork of a CCPN cameraperson struggling to stay focused on the spectacle in front of them.

Cisco watches Zoom holding up 'Reverb' by his neck, black cloak long since discarded, body dangling with his back at an unnatural angle. Underneath the tight green suit Cisco custom-made, with a whole load more care than he could admit to at the time, is Hartley. He was meant to strike back at this terror, destroy him, not be destroyed. Tears form in Cisco's eyes but he doesn't really feel them, just a choking fear, worse than anything he's felt before. Nobody says a word. Nobody helps. Nobody wants to be the next person in his grip.

Zoom unmasks Hartley, ripping the fabric off brutally, another sickening jerk to Hartley's neck as he does so, and everyone sees Hartley Rathaway for what Zoom wants. Another Rathaway defeated. Another pathetic attempt at rebellion crushed. What Cisco sees is a man he should have stopped. He sees the culmination of missed opportunities, moments he should have said something but he knows Hartley would have done it anyway. Because someone needed to. Someone still does.

Cisco might not have been the model employee lately, too embroiled in his and Hartley's extracurricular efforts but he's got access to S.T.A.R. Labs, which means he has access to what he needs. Harrison Wells himself catches him stealing the dark matter and Cisco doesn't even care, carries on, ready with a thousand retorts about how Wells is responsible. A single curt question from Wells and Cisco unleashes a dozen in rapid succession and watches Wells' anger deflate, shoulders slumping.

"He has my daughter."

"Oh snap, he had my...my - my friend. He _killed_ my friend. I think I win this pity party. Got anymore excuses for me?"

Right now, Hartley is strung up on the same chandelier his parents met their fate on – _why didn't anyone take it down after the last time?_ Cisco wonders morbidly. Zoom said pretty please with a threat on top on Live TV and told everyone not to take him down for at least a week. He doubts anyone is foolish enough to risk it, so Hartley is going to swing there like a hanged man until someone is brave enough to put him to rest. Cisco's willing to bet no one will be asking anyone to identify the body, least of all Cisco. It isn't right and there's only one thing he can think to do about it. One thing other than cry. Breaking down in front of Harrison Wells was not on today's to do list and it's a lot easier to divert that emotion into anger.

"Make me like him."

"It doesn't work like that Ramon. I can't predict what it will do to you. Probably kill you," Harrison adds the last part almost like an afterthought.

"Do you want your daughter back? Do you see anyone else stepping up? Make me a meta."

* * *

Cisco sews his own suit. It's not a carbon copy of the first design he made for Hartley – he goes kinda full-on with the lines of waves quilted around the top of the sleeves - but it's very clearly inspired by Reverb's. As far as Cisco is concerned, he's Reverb too. It always was _his_ name, given to Hartley, and now Cisco's picking up that mantle. What one Reverb started, another will finish. Zoom is going down. Manipulation of vibrational energies aren't that far from what Hartley envisioned, though his scope is wider and his impact proving stronger. He's had to be strong. Hartley is gone, Harrison isn't much for emotional support and the process of making him a meta nearly killed him. But not quite. Maybe luck will be on their side this time.

Harrison tells him in neutral tones when they begin his training, almost seeming bored, that meta abilities are most commonly tied to psychological state and stress response – fight or flight, adrenaline. The jerk tries to scare him into accessing his powers. It works. It just doesn't work as well as when Cisco drums up his anger, building memories up until he's incensed and the energy flows free exactly where he wants. Harrison doesn't say anything much about it. Someone probably should have. Cisco's so far past caring though, there's only one thing he needs and he'll do anything to achieve it.

They never have a touching moment where Harrison proclaims him ready, there's no mentor/mentee push of belief in the impossible to tip Cisco into the zone. Cisco wakes up one morning and decides it's a good day to possibly die, not that he plans to. There's no more waiting, or working to get ready, this is it.

Cisco breaches to the highest tower Central City has to offer and watches, for the last time, the flash of blue light zipping across the city. He visualizes his breach, focusing on _who_ and not where precisely, the rip in space enveloping the speedster as runs right into it, the inescapable trapdoor. He peers up into the sky at the accompanying breach and follows the sight down, all the while hazily conscious of the blood dripping from his nose. He watches Zoom smash into the ground and ignores the throbbing at his temples to breach down to him.

Zoom lies broken but breathing on the asphalt, spluttering blood. The multiple fractures make for a gruesome sight. At least he's not going anywhere anytime soon. He wants to unmask him, make him just a man but Cisco stands out of reach regardless, wary of unknown speedster tricks.

"You broke my heart, only fair I do the same for you," Cisco says, feeling a small touch of another emotion come back to him briefly – a slither of something he can only think of as painful - before he refocuses on the anger in order to open up another breach directly under Zoom. He doesn't know how many falls it takes to break a speedster beyond repair – the whole city finds out that day though.

Hartley died a hero. Cisco lives. He just isn't sure who he's living as. The anger that fuelled him, and this mission of his and Harrison's for months, doesn't go away when Zoom dies. Neither does the power it brings, but power, like money, can feel hollow without the promise of something more.


End file.
